Cunningly Cliched
by Anonymous to You and Me
Summary: A series of cliches. Latest: It was all the same. They all hid behind what they were supposed to be. But why didn't they realize that they had the wings to soar upon what could be?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Never Knew**  
Cliche: **Dan and Natalie find out they love each other spontaneously. **  
Couple: **Dan/Natalie.**  
Summary: **As I stared out the window, where she was, sitting quietly as the wind played with her hair, I realized something horrific: I love her.

* * *

It was the summertime, and I, as always, was on my way to the arcade for some wicked shooting games. As soon as I arrived at the old arcade, I knew without a doubt that I'd be waiting to have the time of my life.

It was packed. I guess every other eleven-year-old boy in the city decided to do the same thing as me. Only those boring "chance" games were left unattended, and there was no way I was wasting my money on those. I needed my share of shooting or racing.

With a frustrated sigh, I sat myself down on one of the benches. Only after about five minutes did I notice the girl sitting in front of me, on the opposite side of the window. Her dark hair and coffee-colored skin should have been enough to tell me who it was - Natalie.

I continued staring at her - there was nothing else to stare at - as she just sat there. Part of me wondered what the heck she was doing here. I was pretty sure she wasn't waiting for the bus, because she had her own driver.

Suddenly, she turned around and I thought she had seen me. But instead, her eyes scanned right past mine and made their way back to the street, where they were earlier. It was scary, her eyes... they were so empty.

As I stared out the window, where she was, sitting quietly as the wind played with her hair, I realized something horrific: I loved her.

But it made no sense whatsoever. My heart pounding, my palms sweating... what the heck? I had seen Natalie hundreds of times before, and never had this happened. Ever. Yet now, as I watch her through the stained window, I can't help but notice everything _gorgeous _about her.

I must be sick.

Then, slowly, she turned and our eyes actually met. Her dark eyes, I noticed, held the same secret. A small smile slid over her lips, and slowly, she stood up. With a nod my way, she pulled out her phone and started walking the other way.

I ran after her without hesitation.

* * *

**A/N:** I've never written Dan/Natalie before, so I hope this is somewhat... correct, minus the cliche. -.-" I don't _not_ like Dan/Natalie... I just don't see anything leading to a romantic relationship between them in the books. They'd make nice friends however.

Ah, so this is my welcoming into the collab of all of us. So, not all the oneshots will be mine, but some of them will. Hope you enjoyed this, in either a serious or humorous way.


	2. Chapter 2

**~Mask Of Glass**

**Genre: Reflective; Symbolic**

**Rating: E for Everyone**

**Summary: **_It was all the same. They all hid behind what they were _supposed_ to be. But why didn't they realize that they had the wings to soar upon what they _could_ be?_

Why did she feel so lonely sometimes?

It should have been a simple question. After all, one would think that it would be easy to be so lonely when they had no one left. No one that cared, at least. But at the same time, she had everyone. It was as if she were able to look down on all the world and see everything from her own private corner of the sky.

She grew to know people, but they had no idea that she was watching. Sometimes she would imagine how a conversation between her and them might proceed. But more often she just watched and listened. And as she watched and listened, she noticed a pattern— after all, she _was_ a blood-born Lucian. It was simply _in her nature _to be able to notice things like this, to find codes and secrets that no one else could.

Even secrets that no one had ever uttered before.

But when had this secret begun? Oh, how she wished that she could watch _all _of them, ever since Luke left. How, then, might the unknown secret have started? Perhaps with _him_. It was logical. It was probable.

He might have been the one who imposed the secret. And what if he knew of the secret that he had created? Suddenly she wondered if it was all just a big conspiracy. They were all frightened of stepping one toe out of line. Isabel would snatch them in an instant and get rid of them in the most convenient way possible. (Even if it meant _killing._) Yes, that was why there was a secret in the first place, because every leader had just been so formidable and terrible, ever the image of a deadly Lucian to every other branch.

Yet what if, secretly, they all wished for change? What if they all pretended, every day, to be the deadly and sly snakes that was the stereotype? And in reality, when no one, _no one_ except her was able to see, they were completely different?

Obviously, some were. The moment they were alone, they turned from the red, the poison, everything that they were known for, and began to be _them._

How she wished that she could stop the tyranny and gather them all together in one room. Then, she would tell them everything. She would tell them that they didn't have to pretend.

They didn't have to hide.

* * *

He watched her silently. Whether or not she was aware of his presence, he wasn't sure. But it was easy enough to see that she was lost in a trance. And she was _good._

Why had she been so afraid before?

One shouldn't be afraid of one's own family. Immediate family, that is. He could understand the fear of other branches. They would be the most critical, whispering behind their delicate hands, wondering why she had dared to do something so _different,_ so _strange_. So unlike everything they had ever been.

But now that he thought about it, he would have said that once, too. No wonder she had been so terrified. It was hard to decide who would have been more critical. Her parents, who were supposed to be so similar, or her distant cousins, who were completely unlike her.

Or were they?

After all, now he had seen them in a different light, too. He was friends with some of them, even. He had discovered that not all of them were bloodthirsty. They wanted peace, just as he wanted it, and he didn't have to worry about them mocking him and accusing him of being "soft." And maybe, just maybe, the Madrigals would find a way to change enough people, like he had changed.

And if they all changed, it would be amazing for them all to realize the truth that he had found— that not all of them had to be so confined, so driven to be _one thing_. It didn't matter that their DNA was coded for the traits of their ancestors. The past didn't define them.

If anything, it should refine them.

Just like how he could watch her do something so different, and still love her as he always had.

He leaned back in his chair. With a content smile on his face, he raised his arms and laced his fingers behind his head. For once in his life, he felt like he didn't have to worry about anything.

* * *

She took a deep breath. She tried to let it out slowly, but it ended up rushing out of her control. It was gone in a second, and she cringed.

_Try harder._

She wished that her heartbeat could slow down with a simple command sent from her brain. But it couldn't, and she was still here, staring at the bathroom mirror and glaring at her tears.

It was stupid. This was stupid. She shouldn't be crying, and she shouldn't care. She should only want one thing. (Maybe two.) But only one thing should _really_ matter, one thing should dominate all other longings!

So why didn't it? Why didn't she only want the clues? Why did she give up before she had even begun? True, she would have pressed on given the chance. If _that_ hadn't happened.

But would that have made the decision easier or harder?

It was obvious that the others had changed. It was obvious from the minute she saw them. What had caused it, she might never know. All she could do was wonder how she might have changed if things had been different. She had been used to being a genius, a whiz at everything. Then she was crushed in an instant.

After waking up, she never saw things the same. Because for once, she realized that she was weak. She was not what she had believed herself to be. Smarts didn't count for everything, no matter how much she wished they did. She stopped wondering how the Tomas could bear to live. Instead, she respected them for their skills. Were any of them different the way she was, too? Or perhaps the Lucians. She'd seen that not all of them grew up to be spoiled brats who killed just for the fun of it. And, yes, maybe the Janus didn't sit in a recording box all day.

And of course, maybe the secrets in the shadows weren't so sinister after all.

Normally, after coming to such conclusions that her family was better than she had thought, she would grin and beam and she just wouldn't— couldn't— stop smiling for the rest of the day. Discovering something always made her feel that way.

Not this time. Instead, she sobbed. She cried, and she screamed into her pillow, because none of them showed it except in the Gauntlet. And _she_ hadn't shown it— had she? Her own small change of heart? No, they must still think her the same. They must think that she was conceited and even spoiled, if they thought about her at all.

She cried because she was a failure. She was different, but she could not show it, even when everyone else found the strength to do so.

_Try harder._

To keep the sobs in? To be different, and not be ashamed? To stop hiding and pretending and being the perfect stereotype?

Another cry escaped her mouth, and she held her face in her hands.

* * *

He felt as if he had spent his whole life at a masquerade. Bright, colorful masks were everywhere you looked— red, green, yellow, blue. Naturally, he should have been an expert at things like this.

Well _naturally_ was stupid. Because now, everyone who he had _thought_ that he knew were actually _different._

The ones who had been stupid had actually been smart. The ones who had been smart weren't all that. The ones who had been all that were weak. The ones who had been weak were strong.

And he? He who had been _oh-so_ strong and confident, the one who had known that everything would work out, was now unsure and afraid. He felt lost in the intricate dance of his family. While they were all different, in actuality, they were all the same. They all hid behind what they were_ supposed_ to be. But why didn't they realize that they had the wings to soar upon what they _could_ be? There was no point in hiding behind their masks. So why did they? Why couldn't they don a new mask, one that was _them?_ One that was clear, one that would show the world what they could do and what they could be?

. . . Because they were all afraid.

Just.

Like.

_Him._

* * *

The sheets rustled as she shifted her position. No, her right side felt no better than her left. With an annoyed sigh, she settled onto her back.

_Breathe._

Three seconds later, she opened her eyes, her face now twisted into a scowl. She glared at her dark ceiling, unable to make out anything, except for the small green light on the smoke detector. It was silly to be angry at the white plaster for her current inability to sleep, but she was tired, and she was going to be angry anyway.

Glancing at the alarm clock at her side, she groaned. It was past midnight.

_Fine._ She would just count sheep. That was supposed to put you to sleep, right?

_One._

She imagined a fluffy white sheep leaping over a fence.

_Two._

Another one. Baa.

_Three._

. . . Oh, this was just ridiculous.

Sitting up now, she rubbed her eyes and yawned. What was she supposed to do? Just think and mourn the fact that she couldn't close her eyes and drift off?

Well, it was better then punching her pillow, doing jumping jacks, rolling around in search of a non-existent comfortable position, and counting _sheep_.

Think.

Immediately, the Gauntlet sprang into her mind. Of course. That was probably the reason she couldn't sleep, anyway. Near-death experiences could do that to you, she supposed. Especially when you were expected to "get a good night's sleep" the day after you almost died. When you thought everything was _really_ about to end. For good. There had been nothing that she could do— No clever tricks to get her out of trouble that time. It had all been up to someone else. Well, several people, actually.

People she had never trusted before, and most of whom had certainly never trusted her. Sometimes no one had.

She shivered suddenly. Okay, this thought process wasn't working. She didn't like the thoughts of betrayal and revenge and competition between _family members_, for goodness' sake! How could anyone be so heartless? They'd all been about to die at the hands of an insane woman. That just showed what that stupid serum could do to you. These power-hungry people were insane, thinking that they could control something so potent.

_Definition of the word "Cahill": insane._

Chuckling at the thought, she settled onto her back again and laced her fingers behind her head. Definitely crazy. In fact, it was crazy that they had all made it out alive. Bruised and broken, of course, but it was certainly preferred.

Yet not only was there the miraculous animation of everyone as they exited the Gauntlet, but there was something else... There was some sort of _change._ They had all bonded in there somehow, but not in the way the Madrigals of old had intended. It was a very unique situation that had forced them to work together, and had Isabel not been there, seeming to hold all of the cards, the Gauntlet just might have been doomed to fail forever.

As reluctant as she was to even consider it, she had to admit- the Vespers had been responsible for this cooperation. They probably didn't want to acknowledge it either, even more so because they had made their enemies stronger. Amazing what one could do on accident.

And now that things had started to settle down, she wondered how the future would play out. Would the branches _really_ unite just because a bunch of kids had played around in a cave? Could they really swallow their stupid pride and just think for one moment about the good of others, and the good of the world? The battle between the Cahills had been bloody, but the war about to wage with the Vespers would be even worse.

Especially if they continued to see each other as pathetic, miserable excuses for people. If they could just look past the stereotypes (and in some cases, their mirrors), maybe they would start acting like a family.

And maybe they would stand a chance of surviving.

**Just some thoughts about a lot of the writing in the archive.**

**Edit: I fixed a few mistakes, namely line dividers, which Syberia graciously pointed out to me. Thank you!  
**

**~vii**


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